What's In A Name
by Princess Pinky
Summary: Before Artie started his career at The Warehouse, he visited Eureka, and was forced to leave something very important behind.


**A/N:** This was inspired by a quote Saul Rubinek made about how if his character of Artie Neilson on _Warehouse 13_ ever crossed over to _Eureka_, the shows could make the character Saul played in season one of _Eureka_, Dr. Carl Carlson, Artie's twin brother who changed his name. After thinking about this a while, I realized Artie's past actually makes such a plot absolutely perfect, so this is what I came up with. (For anyone who doesn't watch _Warehouse 13_ regularly, Artie's real name is Artie Weisfelt and it was changed to Artie Neilson to protect his identity.)

_**What's In A Name**_

"I don't like this," he whimpered as he rung his hands together. His back half of the seat was covered in plastic and he was curled up in the corner, as close to the door as humanly possible. "I want to go back home, Artie." He was shaking his head, fearful and on the verge of stuttering. "I don't like it here…I want my lab back…_Artie!_" he begged. "_Please_ take me home!"

"Carl…" the man in the opposite seat sighed. He placed his swollen hands to his face and shook his head. Everything about him – Artie – was identical to the cowering man by the door, except for the fact that his half of the seat contained no plastic and his voice didn't shutter like an old house. "This is for your own protection," he explained for the nth time. He was trying his hardest to be calm, but his teeth were visibly chomping with his unbridled frustration.

Carl shivered as he caught the steely gaze of a pair of eyes in the rearview mirror. They belonged to a woman he'd only been introduced to the following day, who called herself Frederic. _Mrs. Frederic._ He quickly cast down his eyes to his twittering hands in his lap and shook his head. "I don't like moving. You know I don't like moving! I don't want to leave my job…my lab…my-"

"Goddamnit, Carl!" Artie finally exploded. "I'm trying to save your life here! Nobody likes leaving things behind, especially not under circumstances like this, but you _have to!_ Just like I have to! If I could've left you out of this completely, I would have, but I couldn't. We're twins: you look exactly like me and you have the same last name as me. If the Russians come looking for me, they are liable to find you and I can't let that happen. That's why Mrs. Frederic has agreed to move you to a new town where you'll be safe!"

Carl began to sniffle and dug into his pocket to retrieve a hypoallergenic tissue, which he carefully wiped his nose with. "Why should I get punished for what _you_ did?" The question was direct, a peculiarity for Carl.

Artie's features softened a little bit, saturated with guilt. "You shouldn't." he agreed. "But what's done is done. It is what is it, Carl, and I can't change that. I can only do what I can now to protect you. You're my little brother," he spoke softly and laid a hand to Carl's arm. The wince he expressed when Carl pulled away seemed to go over the latter's head. "I don't want anything to happen to you," he whispered dejectedly. As the words hung in the air, he reached into weathered leather bag between his feet and pulled out a stack of forms. "Which is also why I need to know what you want your new name to be."

"Weisfelt's my name," he replied stubbornly. "I like it."

"I know you do, but you can't keep it. Other than 'Carl,' you can't keep anything from our old life. It'll make it too easy for the Russians to find you. You need a new last name, so what is it going to be?"

Carl began to pull at his cufflinks as the car made a left turn, inching further and further towards his new life. "Carl…" he sputtered.

"I already told you-"

"Carlson," he spit out. With a defiant look at his brother, he repeated himself. "Carl Carlson."

"Carl Carlson?" Artie echoed in disbelief. "The only people who end up with names like that are people whose parents thought they were being clever when they were born. You don't want that name. Pick something-"

"Yes I do," Carl replied stubbornly. "You said that I could keep 'Carl,' so I want to keep it! And you can't change my mind." He slumped further into his seat.

"You heard your brother, Arthur," Mrs. Frederic announced monotonously from the front seat.

Like Carl, Artie looked to the rearview mirror to see Mrs. Frederic's ominous eyes and quickly averted them to the papers in his hands. "Carl Carlson," he muttered under his breath as he scribbled the name onto required lines to create his brother's new identity. He was still writing when the car pulled into a driveway and stopped, which he hadn't even noticed, until a knock came from his side of the window. He looked up abruptly, caught Mrs. Frederic's nod in the mirror, and rolled down his window to find a young man in a tan sheriff's uniform and brown leather jacket.

"Carl?" the sheriff asked with a smile. He stuck his hand through the window, offering a shake to Artie. "I'm Sheriff William Cobb."

"Actually, my name's Artie." He politely took the man's hand and shook it awkwardly over the rolled down window. "That's Carl."

Sheriff Cobb glanced between the twins, narrowed his eyes a bit, and then nodded. "Oh," he smiled and retracted his hand. He opened the door for Artie, at the same time that Mrs. Frederic also opened her door. "I have a couple of second cousins who are twins. We've got several pairs of twins in Eureka, too."

"Eureka?" Artie echoed.

"Eureka, Oregon," Mrs. Frederic intoned as Artie and the sheriff came around the back of the car.

"That's a long way." Artie opened Carl's door, to find that he hadn't even taken off his seatbelt yet. "Come on, Carl." He leaned over to unhook the belt and then tugged on his twin until he got him out of the car. "Carl, this is Sheriff Cobb. Sheriff Cobb, this is my brother, Carl Wei-" he stopped himself. "Carlson. Carl Carlson." He nudged Carl, who pulled out a glove from his pocket, placed it onto his hand, and then proceeded to shake the sheriff's hand as Artie audibly groaned.

"I take it you're not a fan of germs?" Sheriff Cobb chuckled.

Carl shook his head bashfully. "I don't like germs, no." He pulled the glove over his hand, turning it inside out so that the side that had touched the sheriff's hand was tucked inside, then he pulled out a small bag and shoved the used glove into it. Then he turned away and began to collect the plastic from his seat in the car.

"This is where Carl will be relocated," Mrs. Frederic promised. "His home will be financially provided for as per our agreement and he will begin his new position as a scientist at Global Dynamics next week, after he's been briefed and signed a disclosure agreement."

"You won't be staying with us, then?" Sheriff Cobb questioned.

Artie shook his head. "Just Carl. Mrs. Frederic has another position for me…it's a bit out of the way."

Sheriff Cobb nodded understandingly. "Of course. Well, I can assure you Carl will be just fine here, we'll take good care of him. I'll see to that myself."

"Thank you." Artie replied, a bit more emotionally than he liked. As Carl finished collecting his plastic and turned around, Artie quickly engulfed him in a hug, which Carl squeaked and tried to squirm out of with no success. "Good luck, little brother." He felt his throat close up at the last word and quickly pulled away and discretely rubbed his eye.

"We have to go, Arthur. Time is of the essence."

"Right, right." Artie closed his eyes, taking in the last few moments he would spend with Carl.

"Don't worry," Sheriff Cobb said again. "I'll be here to pick you up bright and early in the morning, alright, Carl?"

"Are you staying with me?" Carl asked timidly.

"Carl, we've been over this. I can't, I'm sorry. But Sheriff Cobb…" he nodded in the direction of the man. "He'll be here. Everything will be alright, I promise."

Carl opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, appearing something like a goldfish. "But-"

"_Arthur."_ Mrs. Frederic warned.

"I've got to go." Artie rounded the car before Carl could find anymore words – before he could stop himself from abandoning the agreement he'd made with Mrs. Frederic altogether – and climbed back into his seat and shut the door. With wet eyes, he watched through the darkened window as Carl began to quiver and say something to Sheriff Cobb as Mrs. Frederic climbed into the front seat and shut the door. Before he knew it, the car was on the street and all he could see was what he assumed to be Sheriff Cobb helping Carl with his inhaler as he watched from the polarized back window, until the car turned and his brother was gone.


End file.
